iMade a Bet
by mistyblueeyes122
Summary: When you realize something, you can go one of two ways. You can avoid the revelation, or you can flow with the idea and see where it takes you. This is a story where Freddie doesn't choose the safe road, but the one that's good for his heart. Seddie
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Okay so I feel really really really bad about writing this instead of my other fanfic iBought a Donkey. But I am having the WORST writer's block EVER and THIS plot bunny has been bugging me for WEEKS now so I finally decided to write it out… I'm really really sorry and I'll try and get the new chapter of my other fic out soon but in the meantime…. ENJOY! :D

Freddie rushed through the halls of Ridgeway High School, shoving through the packs of teenagers scurrying to get to their lockers, the bathroom, or the main entrance to the school. He looked around for a familiar head of blonde curls, and spotted it directly in front of him, and her locker.

"Sam! SAM!" He called jumping over a recently tripped Gibby, "Hey I need to talk to you!"

Sam Puckett turned her head just in time to see the dork take a hurling leap over the blob that was Gibby's helpless quivering form.

"What do you want Fred-wad?" She inquired, watching Freddie stumble over his own feet after a less-than-spectacular landing, "Can't you see I'm busy trying to get out of this dump?"

Freddie looked around, "Where's Carly?"

"I don't know. I'm not her keeper." Sam said. She looked into her locker to make sure she had everything she needed before she left. She went through her mental list: _bag of beef jerky? Check. Pearpod? Check. Money she took from Freddie at lunch today? Check. _

Sam smirked as she thought about the last item on her mental list _Haha I bet he'll be wondering where his twenty scurried off to... well maybe not. _

Sam stared at the mouth that was moving in front of her and realized that while she was daydreaming about how she was going to spend the money she recently obtained Sir Dorks-a-lot was actually talking to her.

"-a date?" Freddie heaved the last words out, seemingly out of breath. Sam blinked.

"Sorry I wasn't paying attention can you repeat what you just said?" Freddie made a pained noise and hid his face in his hands.

"Go on a date with me?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"What was that, Benson? You can't mumble! Mama's got bad hearing." Sam cupped a hand around her ear and leaned towards the brunette boy.

"GODDAMNIT, PUCKETT, DATE ME!" Freddie suddenly exploaded, hands flailing in the air, face red with embarrassment. He looked around at all of the faces that had turned towards them because of the sudden noise. He turned back to Sam, "Please?"

Sam stared at him with wide eyes and her mouth wide open.

"Date you? Like with dinner and fancy clothes and small talk? No way, Benson what are you thinking?"

Freddie, chest still heaving from his explosion, and cheeks still pink from the embarrassing amount of attention it caused looked back at Sam, speculating.

Sam, usually a fan of Freddie's thinking face, seeing as it meant either an entertaining argument or the formulation of a plan to get her out of trouble, was not really excited about that look at this moment.

"Then I have a bet." Freddie stated.

"You… what?" Sam stared at the king of the dorks, whose facial expression was changing from speculation to smugness.

Freddie crossed his hands over his chest, crossed his right leg over his left, and tipped himself over so that he was leaning against the locker situated right next to Sam's.

"I have a bet. I bet that I can take you out, on a date no less, and make you have a good time." He uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off of the locker, and met her steely blue eyes with his defiant brown ones.

Sam licked her lips, assessing the seriousness of this bet. It's true, she's never backed down from a bet before, and she only ever lost when Freddie bet that she couldn't stop insulting him for a week, but this didn't seem to be the same type of deal. It was something that had a different sort of edge to it, something more emotional than what she was used to. The odds were in her favor, no doubt. All that was wasted was one night of her time and she could still win the bet if she went into this "date" with a bad enough attitude, but she was a smart girl (well, street smart) and never went into a bet without knowing the stakes, "As much as I love bets, I need to know the stakes. What do you get if you win?"

"Simple." Freddie smirked, "Another date."

"And if I win?"

Freddie thought for a moment. Finger tapping his lip, "Whatever you want." he stated.

Sam stared at him incredulously. Sure, he wasn't the smartest when it came to betting her, but usually he wasn't this stupid about it. There was no real way for her to loose, she either got to have a great night, all expenses paid (not that there was usually any expense anyways), or she got whatever she wanted out of the baby-faced dork in front of her.

Maybe even both.

It was a stupid idea to even think about missing this opportunity. There was nothing that could really go wrong for her anyways, and she honestly had nothing better to do that weekend besides hang out at Carly's house. A change might be nice.

Especially if it came with rewards.

She stayed silent for a while. Freddie, obviously wishing he just had kept his mouth shut, was fidgeting with his back pack strap and looking up at Sam every few seconds, waiting for a reply.

"Fine." His head snapped up.

"What?" His eyes were wide.

"I said I'll do it, Puddingtop." Sam snapped.

"You'll go on a date with me? Really?" Freddie's newly widened eyes had a look of hope that would be adorable if it were anyone else, but this was Freddie and nothing about that freakish nerd was adorable.

Nope. Nothing at all.

"It's not a date, it's a bet, something that I've never backed down from before so I'm not going to back down from now." Sam shifted her weight to her left foot and crossed her arms, "Don't mistake this for anything it isn't Wad-o-Freddie. There will be no flowers, no pulling out my chair, and no fancy restaurant…unless they serve steak. Mama loves me some steak." Sam took a moment to lick her lips and rub her stomach.

Freddie's lips quirked into a small smile, "And chocolates? Are they out of the question, too?"

Sam took a minute to ponder the question, "No, Freddork. Chocolates are NEVER out of the question."

**A/N 2:** There you have it! Chapter one! This was originally going to be Freddie asking Sam out and her immediately saying yes, because someone said that wanted to see something about them BEING in a relationship and people's reactions to it, but this is what it ended up as so I kind of failed on that regard… I hope you still like it!

**ALSO? REVIEW AND I'LL LOVE YOU FO EVAH (and will never say fo evah again!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I kind of like this whole beginning and ending with an author's note thing… I don't know why but it's kind of like you all get to see my reactions before and after my writings. As weird as it seems I'm pretty much reading a chapter as much as you are every time I post. I almost never look at each writing a second time (though I should so that disasters like what almost happened with my very first fic don't happen, but I just am not that type of writer, I guess) ENJOY CHAPTER TWO!

After school, Spencer was supposed to come meet us at the front entrance (What? He knew they were going to go to the loft either way so he offered a ride when he found out Freddie's mom was working a shift at the hospital). It was ten minutes after school and iCarly's technical producer and the blond side kick were standing together in the front entrance. Sam was getting kind of hungry and kept complaining about how she hadn't had anything to eat for a whole two hours because her package of beef jerky fell into a sewer as they were going into the school this morning.

She tried for ten minutes to reach it in between the bars, but then a teacher came out and brought her to her first period class, her screaming and fighting the whole way.

Now that we were standing outside and had nothing else to do, her leaning up against the outer wall of the building, avidly watching the street, and me, on the ground working on the math homework that was due the next day.

She looked down at me.

"FREAKWARD!" I turned to look at her, "Go get me a sandwich. I'm hungry"

I swear she does this to me on purpose.

"Sam the nearest sandwich shop is ten minutes away by foot and Spencer is supposed to be here any minute."

Sam stared at me, tapping her foot.

Like she's expecting something.

She apparently she got tired of the silence, "Your point _is_?"

I roll my eyes, she's _got _to be kidding.

Except for the fact that this is Sam Puckett and the thing she jokes the least about is food.

"_Sam_ you can't seriously think that I'm going to walk twenty minutes, and possibly miss a ride home, just to get you a sandwich." I cross my arms over my chest.

"Of course I do." She looked at me expectantly.

"Why would you think that?"

She huffed, "Because, Dweeb, you have the hots for me!"

I looked at her, horrified, "The _hots _for you? I don't have the _hots_ for you! No one has the _hots_ for anyone unless they're in a movie that came out in the seventies!"

"You asked me out." She stated

"Yeah? And?"

"And that means you like me." She states, smugly.

"Not necessarily." I grew horrified as I realized what I was saying, because now it seemed like my asking her out wasn't legit. I'd been trying to get the courage to ask her out for weeks and I was finally able to after a pep talk I got by my friend from the AV club, John, in the last hour of the day. I'd been trying to find a way to ask her that made her not think this was a joke, a scam, or a prank.

She looked at me, a quick glimpse of hurt shining in her eyes before she shifted to her fighting stance, one foot slightly in front of the other, hands balled up into fists, just in case things got physical. She seemed to be searching for another argument to get what she wanted.

"You owe me!" She exclaimed

"I owe you for what?"

"For this _date _that we're going to go on!" She replied

"It's a _bet_ and you haven't even won!" It's like I didn't have control of my mouth.

"Yet." She stated smugly, mirroring my stance with her arms over her chest, then slouching a bit to the side.

I was saved from attempting to respond by the tell-tale signs of Spencer's car (i.e. screaming, loud music, and the screeching of tires).

"Hey, Guys! I'm sorry I'm so late but I got caught up in working on a Photoshop collage for my newest sculpture!" He shouted, trying to be heard over his boisterous music.

We both turned to look at him, "Oh no you've got your fighting faces on. Why are the fighting faces on?" He turned the volume dial in his car and looked at us.

"I don't wanna talk about it!" Sam cried, walking around the car and getting into the front seat, the resounding sound of the car door slamming inevitable, but still startling. Spencer, confused, looked towards me for some sort of explanation. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"It's nothing," I said, trying to wipe the look of concern off of Spencer's face, "It'll work itself out soon." I walked to the car and opened the back door, hopping inside the car and shutting the door with a less resounding click. I looked into the front seat to see that Sam was now glaring out the window.

I cringe at the look on her face that I see in the reflection of the side-view mirror. This is one of the worse fights we've had in a while, something more emotional behind our words than usual, even if they weren't as harsh as our usual banter, they meant more.

Spencer tried to get us to talk as he drove down the road, but one look on the both of our faces and he realized that it would be a total waste of time. So, without a word, he leaned over, turned up the volume on the radio, and sped up to get home as fast as possible.

Other than the music, the rest of the car was silent.

A/N: So I'm really really really really really REALLY sorry this took so long to come out! I really don't plan on taking a week per chapter, but my dad just got open heart surgery and I have ACT tomorrow so I've been super busy! I HOPE YOU WILL ALL FORGIVE ME AND WRITE MORE REVIEWS (I'm deciding whether or not I should do the whole "ANOTHER CHAPTER WON'T BE WRITTEN UNLESS I GET THIS MANY REVIEWS!" thing, but I don't know if that would work for my meager little story. Do you?) PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU LIKE IT!

A/N2: Also! If you DO review and have ideas for what you want to see happen in the story then write that in the review. I think I'm going to take three ideas per chapter and try and integrate them into the plot line. Because I'm supreme ruler of this fanfic I'm going to choose them on which I like best. Please note: The ideas can be a quote, a character, a place, ANYTHING! Don't be afraid to put your ideas out there! :)


	3. An Interlude!

**A/N: **I bet you thought they were going on their date now…. YOU'RE WRONG! Actually it is quite possible that you didn't think they were going on their date yet and I just totally made a fool of myself… see this is what happens when I try and be sneaky!  
ALSO I wanted to say sorry again for the long wait for the update! I haven't updated this thing in… five days? LONGER?! I don't know I feel bad anyways but good news (for you bad news for me) my boss at my after school job got mad at me and said I wasn't working for three weeks because he's mean and old. STUPID OLD MEAN PEOPLE! SO I 'm HOPING to update soon…?

This was a problem.

It was a HUGE problem

Like, a GARGANTUANLY HUGE problem!

Sam was still mad.

Sam was still mad and our 'bet' is supposed to start in less than five hours and there isn't any chance of me winning when she's in this mood! She also has to declare what I have to do for her at the end of this date, if she wins.

Earlier I wasn't so worried about it.

Earlier I was confident that there was a hint of liking, that there was somewhere DEEP DEEP down inside of Samantha Puckett that may have thought about me like… that sometimes, and though our hostile fight proved that it WAS there, there was no way for her to enjoy this date when she was so focused on those stupid words I said and the fact that she'd be able to do whatever she wanted to me if she just made herself suffer a few hours longer.

Sam is normally stubborn, but mad? Her determination goes through the roof and there's no way anyone can make her back down.

So I need a plan.

And groveling isn't it. Sam hates groveling… unless it's to have her stop putting you in pain, for some reason she loves that kind. I think it helps feed the power hungry streak she gets whenever she is beating you up. If she's not beating you up she thinks it's pathetic.

So here I am, in my room. Hands poised over the computer keys contemplating what I should do, say, think, _feel _to get Sam to be _happy _again. To take off pained look she's been getting all day when I catch her staring at me in class.

These feelings are new. I just realized them the day I made that bet, and I'm not used to feeling something so raw, to have something that I've been able to push down for so long suddenly come out now and become something that I feel could be a tangible future.

It's strange that now a feeling that I could so easily push away has become so undeniable now. Sam and the way I feel is such a demanding presence in my mind that I can barely focus on Carly or school or our web show.

My hands have been shaking all day. I don't have any idea how I'm supposed to film iCarly tonight. Carly even commented on it at lunch. She had no clue why I was so jittery and asked if my mom had turned off all of the hot water in our house again (She read cold water makes your hair shiney, and then burned her hand in the sink. She decided to turn off the water in our apartment for a whole week before I convinced her to turn it back on. I said that I couldn't stay in my tick baths for as long because I was getting chills in my skin). Then got even MORE worried when I didn't really respond to question.

But I've been working on this Sam problem all day. We're supposed to go out after iCarly, at eight. I have to be at Carly's at six thirty to get everything set up, and it's now three oh five in the afternoon. That means I only have three hours and twenty five minutes that I can fully devote to thinking of a way to make Sam get over my stupidity from earlier.

The worst part is, I can't think as well when I feel guilty, and, man, do I feel guilty about this. A week ago, if you told me that I would later be contemplating ways to make Sam Puckett smile so that I could go on a date with her, one that I instigated, I would have laughed.

Hard.

Now I don't know what's going on and my mind is so focused on thoughts of Sam and the hurt in her eyes that I'm having trouble thinking of a plan to make that hurt go away.

I just want it to go away.

As in gone, forever gone. Not covered expertly by a smirk or a smug look, but washed away. Forever.

But I have to get off of this train of thought, because I don't know how long that look has been there, and the more I contemplate my own need to remove it the more I think that I'm the one who put it there in the first place, and I need that vicious circle to end.

So I'm thinking, something with ham? Something that I know will make her smile and forgive me. And maybe help her realized, fully, that I know her and I like her a lot.

Well…like like her…

And it's a childish phrase and it doesn't really fit with my feelings, but they aren't strong enough to be love, I'm not old enough to love yet. I'm only fifteen for god sakes!

So I don't love her. I just like her… a lot.

This is part of the reason why I need to think of this plan. Part of the reason why I need this, this whatever it is that we are doing tonight to work out so we can try again and again and for maybe this like-liking to grow into something more real.

Something more permanent.

But I'm not thinking of that now.

I have a plan to make.

**A/N 2: This notes kind of long, so sorry! **And for all that wait you only get this short, actionless interlude. I'm so sorry! But, even though a bunch of people are doing alerts for this story, I only got four reviews last chapter and I'm scared that no one is really interested enough to add their input :( and if people aren't interested enough to add their input then maybe this story just is not interesting!?!?!?? Which makes me kind of sad, but oh well!

I only got one idea in the last posting of this, but I decided that I would work the quotes I got into a chapter that wasn't just Freddie's inner monologue. ALSO, I'm taking ideas for a plan for Freddie to make to get a happy!Sam back!

I might trash this story though, if people don't start showing more interest in it (by writing more reviews). I got ten reviews the first chapter! What happened?!?!?! Was my second chapter bad?!?!?!?! :( :(


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hey I'm sure you all hate me right now and want to burn the depths of my soul but I've been SO BUSY these past two weeks! I was just in Atlanta with my choir for a competition (WHICH WE DOMINATED!) and then I came home and had this stupid virus on my computer that caused the internet not to work, and I have a 400 point paper due next week that I was freaking out about SO badly that I actually started CRYING in Latin class (my favorite class EVER by the way). BASICALLY, I'm the embodiment of a stressed out teenager who's just ready for her junior year to be OVER! PLEASE! On a different note, I got a B on a fiction writing assignment, so I kind of feel like a failure. I've never gotten anything lower than an A so that's a total blow to my ego… ONTO THE STORY!

Sam's woken up by the door of Carly Shay's apartment flying open suddenly. "I'm not doing it."

Slam.

Sam gets up, a little disoriented, a lot confused, "Not doing _what_?"

"Apologizing."

Sam stared at the brunette dork before her. Chest huffing, like it had taken as much energy for him to stop himself from saying 'I'm sorry' as it would anyone else to say it.

There was a time in summer, when Fred was at a dorky tech camp and Carly and Spencer were visiting their whacked out Grandpa in Yack-em-up, Sam went to the library out of pure boredom figuring she could read up on psychology to find more effective ways of scarring her victims emotionally as well as physically.

Yeah, the whole book reading thing wasn't on her top lists of things to do, but she'd promised Carls not to break into anyone's houses anymore, and her mom was too busy screaming that the cat forgot to pay the electricity bill again to notice that her daughter was basically rotting away in her room, dying of boredom.

Anyways, these books were basically useless to anything Sam wanted to know (because apparently they're more to _help _people or something), but she did find that people who have opposite personalities tend to be attracted to each other, kinda like magnets.

Maybe this stupid bet was like a test? Maybe the Nerd King was trying to see if it's true, because, when you think about it, no one can really be more opposite than Sam and Freddie.

Sam's abrasive, loud, brutally honest (well, when it does no harm to her), hyper, strong, lazy, mischievous, and very opinionated, while Freddie is quieter, mellow, with more of a sensitive view on things, always wanting to follow the rules, except during random bouts of rebelliousness, and very diligent and studious. The only thing the two really have in common is their stubbornness. When their minds are set on something, they will not let it go.

Unless it was during a bet.

So Freddie asked Sam out, for the sake of testing this idea out, and, when she turned him down, he made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

Damn he was good.

And he knew how to get to her _way _too well for her liking.

"_**SAM!!!!!!**_" Sam jumped, looking back at Freddie's face, masking her own with a bored expression.

"What do you want Freuddie?" The brunette rolled his eyes and stared down at her with a half amused, half irritated expression on his face, one that only she seemed to be able to put there.

"Well, for one, I'd like you to stop looking at my _belt_ when I'm talking to you," Sam opened her mouth, contort reading to spill out, but Freddie's lips moved quicker, "and I want you to actually _listen _to me when I'm talking to you!"

Sam's lips tipped up slightly, the air around her becoming the embodiment of superiority at his floundering, "Oh, Fweddie, did I upset you? Is my gaze causing your anti-bacterial underwear to itch?"

"Sam! Why do you always bring up my underwear? I _told _you my mom stopped making me wear those _weeks _ago!" Sam was basking in the glow of another argument, the normal kind where Freddie was on the defensive, trying to blockade the bombardment of insults she expertly threw at him. Words shot like bullets back and forth from Sam's mouth to Freddie's, no one daring to get in the way for fear that they may be wounded in the process.

This was how it was supposed to be.

Sam pushed down a grin as she stared at Freddie, chest heaving, face bright red with exertion. Another fight well played, Puckett. Sam was satisfied with this squabble (the gym teacher said it in class the other day, best word ever). Freddie's adaptive calm that he seemed to have gotten in the past year had flown out the window. He must have been stressed about this fight thing for a while, seeing as he was so itching for a fight, breaking right at a small mention of his antibacterial undies.

Seriously, those things should not exist.

But apparently that's just what they needed to get this weird air around them, the suffocating feeling of tension that had surrounded them since their last fight, to dissipate. They seemed to be back on track, and, if she were honest with herself, Sam would have to admit that she really did hate that tension that was created by a fight.

It's not like Freddie needs to like her anyway.

She doesn't like him.

Just as their fight ended, Freddie throwing his hands in the air and admitting defeat (as it should be, Dorkwad) Carly came rushing downstairs, breath a little hitched.

"iCarly in five! Freddie, don't you need to check your tech stuff? We need to make sure those lights work for the duck dance bit, and, Sam, you can't tell me you don't have to pee! We have an hour on air and we don't want you to have another accident."

Apparently, in her haste, Carly forgot that the 'accident' was actually part of a skit that _she _had helped write, but Sam actually did have to go to the bathroom, so it's not like it was a problem anyways.

Sam walked off to the bathroom across from Spencer's room and glanced over at Freddie, who was slowly ascending the stairs. For someone who was so tense not ten minutes ago he sure seems to be calmer now.

Nothing like a bickering match with your best frienemy to make a guy feel better…

**A/N 2:** I also realize that, even though I said I would, I have yet to add anything that anyone commented they wanted in the reviews but I SWEAR I'll try to! It's actually eleven thirty at night here and I felt I needed to get a chapter out as soon as possible, seeing as this chapter and it's contents have been swimming around in my mind for over a week, I'm also really sorry I didn't get to the date yet! I thought I would with this chapter, but, apparently I was wrong. I SWEAR to you it will be in the next chapter! Oh and if you think Sam forgave Freddie too easily, you have to remember they're both not saying they like each other so I'm feeling Sam would be a bit more understanding then someone who knew that the guy liked them or wasn't suppressing their own feelings, even if it IS Sam…. This is a long authors note… SORRY! *stops typing*


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